one summer at the burrow
by ellenostalgia
Summary: one summer in the heat of the war, everyone's stuck at the burrow... the claustrophobia causes things to happen that wouldn't happen otherwise, and it brings out the best and worst in people...


Harry yawned and rolled over to stare out the window and onto the dark Privet Drive.

When were they coming to get him and take him to the Burrow?

It had been ages. He knew Hermione was already there, she'd written to him. "_All's fine here," _her letters reassured him. _"Luna's here too, and she's getting along phenomenally with Fred." _He'd felt a twinge of something when he read that letter in particular. He wasn't sure what the emotion was, particularly.

In contrast, he hadn't received a single letter from Ron, which was strange, considering they usually wrote a lot during the summers. Referring to his memory as a basis of what it was usually like at the Burrow, however, Harry recalled the lack of privacy, especially with houseguests like Hermione, Luna and Draco.

Harry was apprehensive about spending his summer with Draco. Though he and his family had come over to their side, he doubted whether this would make Draco a more pleasant person, though without Crabbe and Goyle he was likely to at least offer some slight friendliness. Still, it wasn't something he was overly enthusiastic about.

A tapping on his window made him jump and open his eyes, which he hadn't realized he'd closed. A small kitten with wings was scratching his window with his claws. A puzzled look on his face and wondering briefly if he was dreaming, Harry got up and walked to the window. Opening it, he looked down and saw one of the ministry's cars, Ron waving up at him. "Come on down, mate!" he said in a really loud hoarse whisper. Grinning, Harry shoved his glasses onto his nose, grabbed his trunk that had been packed in anticipation for almost two weeks, and Hedwig's cage, and crept out of his room and down the stairs, taking care to skip the squeaky one as usual. He didn't bother lock the door behind him.

Ron was even more freckled, a sunburn illuminated by the streetlights, his hair longer than ever and unkempt. He seemed to have astonishingly put on some weight, which Harry hadn't known was genetically possible for him. "Boy, have you got a surprise inside this car," he said quietly to Harry as he opened the door. "After you, mate."

Harry climbed into the car, which on the inside was somewhat limousine-like, and looked around him at the dimly lit car. In it was Hermione, Luna, Draco, Fred, George, Neville and Ginny. Neville was slouched in his seat, a large bottle of something or other in his hand, his eyes half closed, his arm around Draco, who looked disgusted. Luna and Fred were seated far apart, both looking disgruntled and somewhat angry.

"Er, hello," Harry said uncomfortably.

"Get in, get in," ushered Ron. "Find a seat somewhere. But I don't want to sit by Malfoy. So, er, take that seat."

Harry sat on the side of Draco that wasn't occupied by the drunken Neville.

"Hello, Potter. I like your house. Very classy," he attempted to sneer, but it sounded really quite halfhearted and forced.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks, Malfoy."

Approximately 30 awkward minutes later, the magical vehicle was at Ottery St. Catchpole. Everyone trooped out of the car, Hermione groaning as she tried in vain to wipe Neville's stomach's contents off her jeans, Fred and George supporting the wildly laughing Neville. "No one better let him near the firewhiskey again," Fred grunted. "Or our store of laughing gas," George muttered.

As they all trooped towards the house, Harry fell into step with Ron. "So what's been going on?" he asked.

"Well, not much. It's all gotten sort of awkward, cause everyone keeps hooking up and breaking up. I guess people get sort of claustrophobic, being here for so long with a bunch of people."

"And who have you hooked up with?" Harry asked jokingly, nudging his friend.

Ron gave a weak chuckle, but before he could answer, Luna sidled up to them. She seemed to glide over the grass. "Hello, Harry," she mused softly.

"Er, well, hello, Luna."

"How's your summer been so far?"

"Terrible. Yours?"

"Oh, rather difficult. That brother of yours," she said, pointing her chin towards Ron, "is quite a bother sometimes."

"What happened, Luna?" Harry asked, before Ron's mouth could fully form a rude retort.

"Oh, I'll tell you about it later," she said cheerfully. "_He _might take it too personally."

"Oh, okay," he said as she drifted ahead of them to get the door.

The burrow was cramped with just him and Hermione visiting, never mind with every family member home and the extra four people, since Lupin was there too. Mrs. Weasley had abandoned any hope of keeping order or any form of sex separation and let them sleep wherever they pleased. They all piled into Ron's room to watch the huge widescreen Muggle television set his father had gotten for him, as well as a cable subscription.

"This is fascinating, you know," Ron said, his mouth full of apple pie, his eyes glued to the screen.

"I don't know how you see the screen at all," Hermione said haughtily. "Your hair covers your eyes so much." Ron shook his hair out of his face, still chewing, but it fell immediately back in place and Hermione rolled her eyes, much to Harry's amusement.

Luna made some kind of dreamy noise as she stared in rapture at the set.

Ginny suddenly catapulted herself into the room. "Mum wants you lot downstairs," she said. She sounded annoyed and said it all in one breath, as a big sigh.

"Why?" asked Ron, without taking his eyes away from the television.

"Dunno," Ginny offered, and spun on her heel and left the room.

"What's wrong with her?" Harry quietly asked Hermione..

"She and Neville have had a falling-out," she whispered back. "It's been rather ugly."

Harry nodded at the still drunken and now hiccupping form of Neville slumped against the wall. "I bet," he replied.

Later that night, after Ron and Harry had forcibly made Draco share a bunk with Neville, they plopped into the top one together, the only other option being the floor. "I suggest you fall asleep fast," Ron said.

"Why?"

"People get up and go places. To do things. I just find it better to go to sleep so you don't know who's with who, ya know?"

Harry chuckled. "Good point."

Ron crawled under the covers with a grin. "Night," he said, rolling over with his back to Harry.

Regardless of Ron's warning, or maybe because of it, Harry couldn't make himself fall asleep.

His summer had been might lonely, and so had his last year of school. Sure, he had kissed Cho, but what had it meant? Not much of anything. What had he confided in her? Not much of anything. He didn't confide in many people. He told Ron and Hermione lots, of course, but not the deeper things he felt. Those he managed to keep to himself, and sometimes he wished he didn't have to. As he tried to drift off to sleep, he found himself wishing that someone would come wake him up so, as Ron had so eloquently put, they could "go somewhere" and "do things."

The next day at breakfast, Mrs. Weasley served them scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, and though her general demeanour was pleasant, she seemed somewhat harried and Harry noticed a furrow in her brow as she flipped eggs.

"Harry dear," she said, sighing as she looked the table over, "would you mind going to look around the house to see if you can find Luna anywhere? She might still be asleep, I suppose..." As Mrs. Weasley's sentence rambled away, Harry nodded and smiled at her as he pushed his chair in and left the cramped kitchen to look for Luna.

"Luna?" he called out softly as he checked Ginny's room. No one was in there, so he moved on upstairs to his and Ron's room. He heard something coming from the corner and there she was, sitting in a heap on the floor, her head in her hands. Harry rushed forward and put his arms around her.

"Luna, what's wrong?" he asked her. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her porcelain face. She looked deeply into his eyes, as though searching for something, and then without any warning at all, planted her lips on his. Though deeply surprised at first, after a moment Harry put a hand into Luna's hair and kissed her back gently at first, but then with more strength as she kissed him back, her lips soft, her tongue a submissive flicker. As Harry moved to put his hand on her waist, he heard what was the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. He quickly broke the kiss, licked his lips and cleared his throat. He saw Luna wiping her face with her sleeves as they both stood up.

Ron leaned in the doorway. "Find her?"

"Ye-- yeah," Harry stuttered, clearing his throat again. "Right -- right here."

"Kay. Come eat now, mate. Mum was getting worried." He left, still unsmiling, but Harry thought he saw a glimmer of something in his eyes.

"Come along, then, Harry," Luna said, leading the way out the door. Astonished at her lack of awkwardness, Harry followed her back into the kitchen.

"Ya know, if you just wanted to neck with her, you could have at least done it while the rest of the house was asleep," Ron said quietly, rousing Harry from his light sleep at around two that morning.

"Eh? Do you have a problem?"

Ron sighed. Harry rolled over to see that his friend was sitting up, his knees pulled up close to his chest. "No, mate, I guess not. I'm just sick of everyone necking at my house. And I mean everyone."

"I'm sorry," Harry offered, looking up at his friend. He struggled up into a sitting position too. There was a slight pause. "It's just been awhile. Since I've had closeness with anybody." He forced the last sentence out, and it sounded choppy and painful as a result.

Ron looked at Harry, something new in his eyes. "I know what you mean."

"Haven't you done your share of necking in your house?"

"Not really. Me and Hermione tried a bit of a thing. But it just really didn't work out. And Luna's too preoccupied with Fred and gnargles to notice anyone else. And Draco's got his head in the clouds. All he ever talks about is mansions and money and robes and how ashamed he is to be in my house. He..."

"He what?"

Ron shook his head, as though shaking dust from his hair. "Nothing."

"Ya know, I hear it's hard to find closeness with people when you don't open up," Harry joked.

Ron smiled weakly and leaned his head against the wall. "I know, mate. But some things, like real subtle deep shit, you just don't have to bring up. Stuff you're not sure about. That's just starting, like it's not even fully formed yet."

Harry swallowed. He wasn't sure exactly what Ron was talking about, but he still knew what he meant.

Ron turned to look at Harry, and Harry quickly looked down.

"Did that make any sense to you?" Ron asked the side of Harry's head.

"A bit," Harry said softly.

"Mate. Do you know what I'm talking about." Ron's voice was surprisingly steady, firm.

"Yeah, yeah, Ron, I do," Harry said finally, looking up, and into Ron's eyes, thinking this valiant and brave gesture would make him feel more dominant and less mysteriously submissive in this conversation, but it didn't. What he saw in Ron's eyes scared him and made him want to curl up into a ball. As he moved to do just that, Ron reached out a hand and grabbed his shoulder tightly. "Stop," he said softly. "Come here." Without waiting for Harry to make an independent move, he pulled him in close, so his nose was less than an inch from Harry's. He looked directly into Harry's eyes, and try though he might, Harry couldn't bring himself to look away.

"_Do _you know what I'm talking about?" Ron asked, his voice ten times softer. But as Harry opened his mouth to answer, Ron put his lips on Harry's, taking advantage of the opening as Harry prepared to speak, slipping his lower lip between both of Harry's. He smoothly and confidently kissed him. Even when Ron broke the kiss, Harry still hadn't kissed back. Harry sat there and stared at Ron in shock, trembling slightly.

"Lie down," Ron told him.

Harry did as he was told. Ron laid down next to him on his side, facing him. He put one hand on his hip and moved in closer so their hips and chests slightly, just slightly touched. Harry shuddered.

"Hey, hey, calm down," Ron said, softly kissing Harry's cheek near his nose. "Weren't you just talking to me about how you wanted closeness?"

Harry seemed to regain his ability to speak. "Yeah. But this..."

"What? Not what you meant?"

"It's just... Sudden. I would need time to..."

For the second time in so many minutes, Ron silenced Harry with a deep kiss. This time, Harry softly kissed back. Ron gently broke the kiss. "That was better, mate," he said, grinning slightly. Harry forced a smile and leaned up to kiss Ron again.

The next afternoon, Harry was in the sitting room, engaged in an admittedly very challenging game of chess with Neville. The girls had gone shopping for more Muggle clothes, mainly for Ginny and Luna, but Hermione went along to give them advice and to pick up a few things too. Fred, George, Ron and Draco were somewhere in the house, Harry was sure, but he wasn't thinking much about it and hadn't been for the past 45 minutes or so. Neville was quite good at chess.

A little while later that afternoon, after Neville had beaten Harry at the first game of chess and Harry had prompted him with an offer of best out of three, there came a shuffle at the door and what sounded like a desperate cry for help. Harry and Neville ran to the door and opened it to see Hermione, Luna, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley so laden with bags one almost couldn't see their hair and faces at all. "Help!" Hermione squeaked again. Harry and Neville immediately started taking bags from her. "My room," Hermione squealed at them. Harry nodded, grinning, and took the first load up to Ginny's room. He nudged the door open with his foot and glanced up as he set the bags down on the floor. What he saw made his jaw drop.

Ron had Draco pinned against the wall on the other side of Ginny's bed, necking furiously, one of Draco's hands in Ron's hair, the other on his shoulder, one of Ron's hands on Draco's neck, the other out of sight. Harry felt his heart drop down to his feet and before he could see where Ron's out-of-sight hand was, his inner conscience woke up. "Oi!" he yelped in warning. "They're bringing more bags and parcels up!"

"Oh shit," said Ron, jerking his hand away and jumping back from Draco as though he were something dirty or had just burned him. Draco quickly adjusted his jeans and attempted to smooth his terribly messy mop of white-blonde hair that, like Ron's, now hung in his eyes and fell around his ears.

Harry left the room, his stomach still queasy, his heartbeat fast. He took another load of bags from Luna, smiling at her more than was strictly necessary, and touching her hands a little longer than was strictly necessary. He gritted his teeth as he put the remaining bags away, and was abysmally quiet all through dinner, and had a throbbing headache by the time they all retreated to Ron's room to watch television.

Luna was off in the corner of Ron's room, sitting on Draco's bunk, her nose in a book promising _Irrefutable Tales of Unbelievable Magical Creatures. _Smiling, Harry went over to join her. "What's this about?" he asked her, pointing to the book.

"Gnargles," she responded promptly.

"Again? I thought you knew everything about gnargles."

Closing the book with a snap, she looked up at Harry before solemnly pronouncing, "One can never know everything about gnargles."

Harry grinned and leaned down to kiss her, unable to resist the urge to glance over at Ron to see if he was watching. He wasn't. He'll look over in a minute, Harry reassured himself.

This kiss, being less unexpected, was a lot better. Harry carefully and softly explored every crevice in Luna's mouth, his tongue wondering over her teeth, her lips, and her tongue. Her soft, soft lips. He felt something inside him awakening as he clenched his hand in her soft blonde hair, as his other hand wandered to her chest.

Luna suddenly broke the kiss.

"What's wrong?"

"We are in a room of five or so people," Luna remarked, in a tone reminiscent of that used when commenting on how many apples are in a fruit bowl.

"Oh, right," said Harry, regaining his composure and running a hand through his hair. He looked around casually and found Ron's eyes boring into his, but this time so many times more frightening than the last time he had looked Harry like that. Harry swallowed and felt something creeping up his head and into his eyes. Quickly he shook his head and left the room.

"Where you going?" Ginny asked casually.

"Er, bathroom," Harry threw out.

"Mkay," Ginny murmured, her eyes back on the television.

Harry, taking his own advice, let himself into the bathroom, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He leaned over the sink and let what was creeping up his face to his eyes pour out. Months and months of loneliness and confusion poured out the corners of his eyes and into the sink. He ran the water to muffle the sound, but after a minute heard heavy footsteps coming towards the bathroom. He quickly dried his face but instead of a knock, the door just flew open, bouncing off the wall behind it.

"What the bloody hell do you mean by that?" roared Ron, his face a violent shade of red.

Harry dropped the towel in horror.

"By... By what?"

Ron grabbed him, one hand on the collar of his shirt, the other on his hair, and swung him clean across the bathroom and into the opposite wall by the shower. Harry now fully appreciated how much Ron towered over him and the muscle tone he had gained that summer as the wall hit his head with a sickening crack.

"My shoving your tongue down Luna's throat, that's what," Ron growled, not letting go of Harry's hair, dangling him an uncomfortable two or three inches from the ground. Harry groaned in pain.

"Shut the fuck up," Ron commanded, letting Harry fall to the floor but not releasing his hold on him.

"You... You were snogging... Snogging Draco..." Harry stammered, stars bursting in front of his eyes. He felt like he had a bald spot.

"So what if I was?" bellowed Ron, his mouth two or three inches from Harry's ear. Harry winced and groaned again.

Ron lifted him again, this time by a different section of hair and collar. Harry felt as though he were being hanged, Ron's grip was so close to his air pipe.

"Why does it fucking matter who I snog?"

"I just... I just think if you snog someone else..."

"You think what? If I snog someone else, you can neck with whoever you want to, on my bed?"

Harry whimpered as the hand Ron had been holding his hair with let go and swung back as though to punch Harry in the face.

"Ron, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he yelped, panicking and trying to shield himself. It was getting harder to breathe with every passing second, and he didn't want to have to explain to Mrs. Weasley why she had to repair a broken nose at half past midnight. Ron seemed to realize this too, although it might have just been Harry's apology, and he roughly let go of him.

Harry took several deep, shaky breaths and stared at his feet. Ron was blocking any way around him and to the door.

Ron slid a hand under Harry's chin, forcing Harry to look up and to look him in the face. His green eyes bore into Harry's. "Don't do that again," he warned, his deep voice heavy and thick with an unnamed emotion. Harry swallowed. "Never, anyone else. Especially under my own roof. Understand?" He spoke slowly and clearly, as though he were weighing each word.

"I... I understand," Harry said weakly and felt his knees buckle slightly. Ron apparently felt it too, and put a hand on Harry's arm to steady him. His hands found Harry's, letting his chin fall back down, and put Harry's arms around his neck, and one of his on Harry's shoulder, one of his hip. "Look at me, mate. We've been through a lot together. I'm not going to fuck it up now, okay? Just trust me." Harry nodded, and put all his trust into Ron's green eyes. Their lips met yet again, but good though the kiss was, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he really could trust someone as frightening and unpredictable as Ron.

**Chapter Two.**

Harry knew he valued Ron's friendship. A whole lot. He had common sense, unlike Hermione, who only believed what she read. Ron didn't need a book to tell him what to believe or think, and he wasn't haughty and snobby like Malfoy. There were a million reasons why Harry had stood next to Ron and not left to join Malfoy that fateful day their first year before the Sorting. But the things he hadn't seen coming were Ron's temper and hypocrisy. The things he had made small note of that had gone on between him and Hermione for the past few years now carried great importance, and he wished he'd thought about them before kissing Ron. Like his anger when Hermione, who he wasn't even with, went to the Yule Ball with Krum... The way he liked to possess people, own people, have first dibs on people. Harry had always seen it, but since Ron was nothing other than his best mate, he didn't think anything of it -- it certainly wouldn't affect him! Only the girls that he would date.

But that wasn't all. It might have been all right, it might have been tolerable, if Ron at least practiced what he preached, if he just had standards in relationships that they both had to follow. But he didn't. _He _could snog whoever he wanted, but whoever he was with had better not even spare another witch or wizard a glance. It was the most unfair thing Harry had ever come across in a person.

And then there was Malfoy. No one knew about Harry and Ron, not even Hermione. They both made careful care of that. They definitely didn't want it getting back to Mrs. Weasley, Luna or Ginny... Or anyone in the house, for that matter. And sometimes Harry saw Malfoy looking at Ron in a way that reminded him of the way Ginny had looked at him his first and second years. And there was no telling, Harry thought. There really wasn't. They could be doing anything, and Harry wouldn't know. Sometimes he wondered if Ron had him in the same kind of hold he had Harry in. Once he had even seen an astonishingly human expression of pity and empathy on Malfoy's face and Ron had carted Harry out of the room and into the kitchen for a little "talk" about his flirtations with Ginny. Harry had been too preoccupied by Malfoy's expression to even really feel Ron's blows.

Harry was quite glad there were so many people there. He hated to think about what Ron would likely do to him if it was just them and Hermione and a whole lot more privacy.

He'd still be hitting on Hermione, anyway, Harry thought one evening, staring at the two of them on the couch from across the room in Mr. Weasley's big chair. Ron was quite on top of Hermione and had her legs spread, and they were engaged in some violent kind of tickling match, and Ron must have been whispering some really pleasing things in Hermione's ear, because she was giggling wildly and half-heartedly trying to get him off of her, her Soffe-clad legs kicking occasionally. Neville, Ginny and Luna seemed oblivious to this entire event, as they were all preoccupied with Hermione's cellphone. Harry looked around the room, trying to look anywhere but at Ron as he gritted his teeth, and found to his surprise, Draco sitting in Mrs. Weasley's chair on the other side of the couch, staring at the same thing Harry was, an unreadable though obviously hurt and confused expression on his face. Seeming to sense Harry's eyes in his, Malfoy looked up. His eyes seemed pleading, beseeching. Wordlessly, he got up and left the room, walking into the kitchen door directly behind him. After a moment, Harry followed him, completely unnoticed by the now kissing Ron and Hermione. Looks like they're trying that "thing" again, Harry noted bitterly.

The kitchen door swung shut behind him.

"Do you know what his problem is, Potter?" Malfoy asked, but it wasn't in his usual sneer. It was in a pleading, pained voice.

Taken aback, Harry wasn't sure how to answer. "No, no I d-don't," Harry stammered.

"He just keeps fucking with my head, you know?" Malfoy said. He began pacing. "I know he's with you. And I know that what we have can't even compare to you and Weasley. Cause you know him, you know. I don't know him, nor do I really want to..." He seemed to be talking more to himself than Harry, but he still looked up at Harry, that same unknowing, beseeching expression in his eyes, as if he was asking Harry for help.

Harry swallowed, still nonplussed as far as what to tell the blonde boy, who though he had grown up considerably and softened up more than anyone expected, still took after his father, especially with the longer hair that now reached his shoulders, and Harry couldn't completely throw away all the misfortunes he has bestowed on them in the past few years. He had a look of someone who had once known far more magnificent and glorious times, and the crook in the nose broken by his father stood out like a flag on his otherwise perfectly symmetrical face, one eye covered by a cascade of straight icy hair. He reminded Harry slightly of Sirius, someone who had been thrown away and cast out of a life of grandeur and hadn't completely come to terms with their newfound position as an outsider.

That still doesn't give anyone the right to hurt him, Harry decided. He took a few halting steps forward and gave the frail boy of equal height a long-needed hug. Malfoy buried his face in Harry's shoulder, his arms snaking under Harry's and around his back. He seemed to be holding on to Harry for dear life, and Harry now fully realized how much weight he seemed to have lost. _Or maybe he's always been like that, _a voice inside Harry said. _You've never hugged him before, you know. _

Harry felt something deep down stir, something he hadn't felt with Ron before. With a slight pang, he realized it was pity. Pity and sympathy for the boy he had hated for almost the entirety of his life. "It's okay," he whispered into the side of Malfoy's head, getting a mouthful of hair. "I don't think I can take it for much longer."

He heard Malfoy laugh into his shoulder. "What do you plan to do about it? Go back to your Muggle aunt and uncle? Cause in case you haven't noticed, Potter, you can't break up with him. He just doesn't let you."

Harry sighed and pulled Malfoy in even closer. Their embrace was suddenly torn apart by the sound of what was unmistakably Ron's footsteps towards the kitchen. Malfoy flew from Harry's arms and to the fridge, where he struck a nonchalant pose with a butterbeer in hand, and Harry dashed to the fruit bowl and sunk his teeth into an apple.

Ron and Hermione entered the room, smiles on their faces, Hermione midsentence. They hardly seemed to notice Harry's flushed face or Malfoy's ruffled hair. Without a lull in their conversation, they went to the freezer, got ice cream sandwiches, and left the room. Harry grinned at Malfoy through his mouthful of apple.

"Think they even know we're home, Potter?"

Harry laughed outright after he swallowed his apple.

That night, Harry was going to take advantage of his relationship with Ron for one last time. He rolled over to face the lightly sleeping Ron, his blonde eyelashes resting on his freckled, sunburnt cheeks, his pouty, full lips parted slightly as he breathed evenly and deeply. His long, shaggy hair fell across his temple and cheekbone, entirely covering his ear and forehead, falling in luxuriously lazy curls of deep red.

Funny how he looks so innocent, Harry thought wryly to himself.

Harry moved closer to Ron and kissed him ever so softly, one hand in his hair, toying with one of his curls. Though Ron didn't visibly wake up, after a moment he started kissing Harry back, his eyes opening slightly. Harry moved on top of him, their legs entwined. Harry massaged Ron's lips with his, propped up on his elbows, his hands in Ron's hair. One of Ron's hands was on his back, the other on his hip. Ron seemed to be pulling Harry in closer to him, and Harry could feel a hard protrudence pushing against his thigh.

Suddenly, Ron seemed to change his mind about what was going on. He somewhat roughly rolled Harry over so that they switched places. Slightly taken aback, Harry broke the kiss. "R-Ron..."

"Yeah?" Ron breathed onto Harry's face, swallowing. He seemed to be breathing deeper than usual.

"I wanted.. I wanted to--" But he was interrupted by Ron's lips. Slightly perturbed and annoyed, Harry didn't kiss back. "Ron," he said again, this time into Ron's mouth.

"What?" grumbled Ron.

"Why are you... On top... In charge, every time... Like this." Harry swallowed. That sentence hadn't even made sense to him.

"Mate, this is about trust. You need to just relax."

"It seems like, like it's all about you."

"I'm getting you off, aren't I?" rasped Ron.

Harry felt something warm creep up his neck. "Well... Yeah..."

"Then how is it all about me?"

"Because you--"

"I make it a point to give you what you want. I make it a point to make sure you bust a load. What kind of selfish person are you to say that it's all about me?"

Harry felt slightly panicked. Malfoy was right. You just couldn't talk to Ron. He wouldn't let you.

"But you don't let me--" And again, Ron silenced him with a kiss, one of his hands stroke down Harry's side and to the drawstring of his sweatpants. He continued kissing him as he untied and loosened the string. Harry took in a sharp breath through his nose as he felt Ron's warm fingers closing around him, pulling him out of his sweatpants. Ron broke the kiss and moved away, but before Harry could continue what he had been trying to tell Ron, he was again silenced by Ron's mouth, but not on his lips.

Harry sat next to Malfoy on the other side of the shed that the Weasleys used to keep their broomsticks in, facing away from the house. There was a good six or so inches between the boys, but still a distinct aura of closeness.

Malfoy's legs were pulled up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees. Because of the way his hair was parted, all Harry could see of his face was his crooked nose.

"You were right," Harry said finally, wanting an excuse for looking at the blonde boy for so long.

"About what?" Malfoy asked, without moving his head.

"About how you can't break up with him. Or tell him anything."

Malfoy sighed. "I know."

"I tried to tell him that I didn't like how he was always in charge. And I couldn't even get a sentence out," Harry said after a pause.

Malfoy smiled, or so Harry assumed, by the sudden flash of slightly yellowing teeth. "My father would be so ashamed of me," he said, but not in a disappointed tone. He sounded rather delighted by the fact. "if he heard that I'd given Ron Weasley not one, but three blowjobs. Or that I'd knocked his sister." He let out a derisive laugh. But then his humour vanished. "Sometimes I'm not sure what I'm thinking."

"Yeah, well, me either," Harry said softly. "I guess it was just out of desperation. But I don't know why..."

"Why you didn't end it when you could?" asked Malfoy, turning towards him.

Harry looked up at him in surprise. "Yeah, that."

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly. "Cause you think that it's going to get better, that's why. You don't think to end it early, cause it hasn't gotten truly bad yet, Potter."

Harry stared off into space while this sunk in. He understood a bit better now.

"Potter..."

Malfoy's soft voice brought him out of his reverie. He turned back to face him. Malfoy had given up any pretence of looking at anything else, or playing with grass, or staring into space, and his grey eyes were boring directly into Harry's green eyes. "My whole time in Hogwarts was terrible, Potter," he said, something cold ringing in his voice. "All I had was that hag Pansy, and though that was one willing girl, she was quite repulsive... Pureblood status doesn't always guarantee good looks --" Malfoy stopped himself as he had gone on one of his rants that reminded Harry of the good ol' times, and let out a heavy sigh.

Harry looked into Malfoy's eyes, and saw something meaningful in those gray eyes for the first time he could remember.

"It's just... You don't always have to..." To Harry's shock, Malfoy choked and put his face in his hands. "Being with someone shouldn't hurt so much," he mumbled into his hands. Harry moved closer to him and for the second time in two days, enveloped Draco Malfoy in a comforting hug. He heard Malfoy take a huge, shaky breath, the kind of breath you take when you don't want to cry. He moved his face up form his hands and leaned into Harry's shoulder. He unbent his knees and moved in closer, again clutching Harry in the same desperate hold he had hugged him in the day before.

It was one of the strangest sensations Harry had ever experienced. His best friend was a physical threat to him, and his arch enemy was in his lap, crying for help and comfort; the Burrow had transformed from a haven into somewhat of a hell. He didn't like things backwards like this, and he was determined to get them back where they belonged. This had to start by getting Ron back in his place.

**Chapter Three.**

Harry and Malfoy trooped back up the hill to the house.

"Potter..." Malfoy began. "If you got shut in a house with Eloise Midgen for a summer, something would happen," he said after a pause.

Harry didn't need to respond. He knew exactly what Malfoy meant by that.

Harry opened the kitchen door and they walked into the house. Mrs. Weasley was at the counter, chopping vegetables. "Oh, hello there, boys," she said, that same harried, worn look about her face. She wiped her forehead with a rag and returned to her chopping.

Harry smiled tentatively at her and they crept out of the room and into the living room. Luna, Ginny and Hermione were all seated on the couch, reading magazines, music quietly streaming from the wireless. "Where's everyone else?" Harry asked them, taking a seat by Hermione. "They got in trouble my Mrs. Weasley," Luna offered softly. "They're cleaning their rooms."

"Oh. Okay."

"Where were you guys?" Hermione asked, her sharp voice a direct contrast with Luna's soft, cheerful one.

"Outside," Harry said simply.

Hermione seemed to want to say something else, but resisted the urge and closed her mouth.

Harry looked over at Malfoy in the other chair. His eyes were closed, his body was relaxed, and he seemed to be basking in the glory of his Ron-less moment being unexpectedly extended.

Malfoy's peace was soon to be rudely ended, though, as Ron's thundering footsteps down the staircase echoed through the house, painfully reminding two certain boys of his recent muscle gain. "Harry!" he roared, coming to a screeching halt at the foot of the stairs.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, cynically curious as to what he'd done now. He looked up into Ron's ruddy face, some of his bangs slightly damp with sweat.

"Come upstairs with me," he said, his voice eerily soft and gentle. He smiled jarringly, giving Harry a show of teeth. Harry got up and followed him upstairs. Malfoy gave him a questioning look as he left. Harry managed a small shrug in return.

Harry tried to walk up the stairs as slowly as he could to put off being alone with Ron for as long as he could. Finally, while Harry pretended to trip for the fourth time, Ron turned around and barked at him to hurry up. Harry unwillingly darted up the remainder of the stairs and followed Ron into the privacy of his bedroom.

As soon as the door had swung shut behind them, Ron threw his arm across Harry's face, his glasses flying across the room and landing somewhere near Hedwig's cage. He fell backwards and into the wall, his arms instinctively rising up to protect his face. Ron grabbed Harry's hair with both of his hands and flung him onto the floor. Harry's head was searing with pain, and his cheekbone was throbbing. Ron swiftly kicked him in the stomach two, three, four times. Harry bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. Suddenly all forms of abuse stopped and Harry opened the eyes he wasn't even aware he had closed to see what Ron was doing. He was on his knees next to Harry. All Harry could see from where he laid was Ron's newly thick thighs in his light blue, worn jeans and a bit of his brown shirt that might have been considered too tight for his new build.

Ron held a piece of parchment in Harry's face. "What's this?" he sneered at him.

Harry took it, sitting up slightly, his stomach aching. He felt like he had cracked a rib. He looked at the parchment and felt his stomach drop. It was a letter he had written to a deeply heartbroken Hermione years ago, reassuring her that Ron was indeed insane and that it was perfectly fine for her to date Krum. The majority of the letter, instead of being comforting, was just a brash attack on Ron's character.

"Ron..." he mumbled. "That was when you were mad at--" Ron cut off the end of his sentence, not with his customary kiss, but with a sharp slap in the face. Stars burst in front of Harry's eyes, and he laid back down.

"I never wrote a letter to anyone about you, no matter how mad at each other we were," he snarled.

Harry closed his eyes, wishing he could wake up and this would all just be a bad dream. Then with a realization so sudden he was surprised Ron didn't see the light bulb pop up above his head, Harry remembered what he had resolved to do. He struggled to sit up, his stomach screaming its protests. "So is this what you did to Hermione after you guys were together, _after _she was with Krum?"

Ron slapped him again, this time the other side of his face.

Harry gritted his teeth. "You can't treat people like that," he growled at Ron. "You can't 'punish' someone for something after the fact, Ron..."

Ron lunged at Harry and entirely lifted him off the ground and threw him at the wall. Harry's spine hit the wall and he fell to the ground, all the wind knocked out of him, landing on his nose. _Well, _Harry thought dryly, _he gained more muscle than I ever would have guessed._

Harry almost decided to back down, and just take everything Ron was going to force upon him for the remainder of the summer, and just move on when school started -- and then he remembered Malfoy's face. The deep, deep sadness and abuse in his grey eyes. First his father and now -- and now Ron Weasley.

Choking back vomit as he took his first breath in about twenty seconds, Harry sat up to face the red-faced and heavily breathing Ron, who stood towering a good six feet above the ground. Harry slowly and shakily stood up. He looked up into Ron's face, Ron's face that was five or six inches above his own. His green eyes, barely visible through his hair, were flecked with yellow, sweat dripping down a stray piece of long red hair. "I don't know what --" he coughed and gagged, and felt his knees buckle. He bent over, spitting and swallowing back the bile. He stood back up. He cleared his throat. "I don't know what you're thinking that makes the way you treat people okay," he said slowly. "This is not what being with someone is about." He remembered what Malfoy had said earlier the day and took a deep breath. "Being with someone shouldn't hurt this bad."

For the first time since standing up, Harry looked up hopefully into Ron's eyes. He immediately wished he hadn't.

Ron grabbed him by the neck and pinned him against the wall, lifting him a few inches off the ground. He moved in close, so his nose was slightly brushing against Harry's. "Really?" he asked Harry, his red hair moving even more in front of his face as he lifted Harry even higher off his feet. "Cause I don't feel a damn thing." And with that, he threw Harry by this throat against the headboard of the bed a few feet away, and a crack echoed through the room as Harry's thigh collided with the wooden edge. Harry let out a yell of pain and fell to the floor with a deep thud that he was sure those downstairs heard. And yep, after a moment he heard several sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. Unable to move, all he could do was gag slightly and sigh with relief.

Malfoy, Luna, Hermione and Ginny entered the room, all horrified at what they saw. Ron looked purely crazy, his hair dripping with sweat and all in his face, his face red and blotchy, breathing heavily. Harry was in a heap on the floor, his leg bent at an awkward angle.

Everyone seemed to choose sides in a nanosecond. Hermione went over to Ron's side and drew a wand, Ginny following suit. Malfoy was the first to move at all, and he drew his wand and ran over to stand in front of Harry. Luna drifted slowly after him.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked warily, holding her wand at ready.

"Your little boyfriend has been--" began Malfoy, but before he could finish his sentence, Ron charged across the room and landed a swift uppercut to his chin. Stumbling backwards, Malfoy fell silent.

Luna waved her wand casually and two of Ginny's fingers fell off. She screeched in horror, jumping back, staring at her hands. Hermione shot a jinx at Luna, who buckled in pain. Harry watched from the floor, immobile and unable to help. Ron seemed to have forgotten that he had a wand and was wrestling anyone who came near him. But when he tackled the minuscule and frail Luna, Hermione seemed to come to her senses.

"STOP!" she screamed, throwing her wand across the room. It shot out red sparks as it flew. Ron let Luna fall to the floor in a heap. Ginny reluctantly lowered the wand she had pointed at Malfoy, who was now sprouting vines from his bellybutton.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Hermione asked. When no one answered her, she spoke again. "I think we all need to sit down and talk."

They all obeyed her, arranging themselves on the couch and Ron's bed. With another casual wave of he wand, Luna repaired Harry's broken leg and stopped the steady flow of vines from Malfoy's bellybutton. "Thanks," he breathed, pulling the last of them out. Harry slowly and unsteadily got up and flopped onto the bed, resting his head on Malfoy's shoulder.

"What has been going on?" Hermione asked again, looking from Ron to Harry.

Ron, who seemed to have calmed down slightly, swallowed nervously and swept his hair from his face. Harry's face ached, and he guessed he had sprouted a few bruises. Luna had traveled from the floor to the bed, but she was still in a rather heartbreaking heap. She didn't appear to be fully conscious. Harry noticed Malfoy's hand in her hair, stroking it softly.

"Your boyfriend," Malfoy began again, haltingly, "has definitely been messing around."

Harry snorted. _What an understatement, _he thought dryly.

"What, Harry?" asked Hermione. She glared at Ron, infuriated.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. He didn't want to incriminate himself in front of Ron. He felt Malfoy nudge him expectantly, but Harry still refused to speak.

"With who?" Hermione prompted.

"Me and Potter," Malfoy finally answered after he gathered that Harry wasn't going to speak up.

Hermione seemed to choke on air. "Um. What?"

"You heard me, Granger." Harry bit back a grin as the old Malfoy shone through for a minute.

"You, you and... Harry?"

She looked to Harry, as though for confirmation. He gave her a small nod. It was all he could muster.

"Well, what else? What was all that noise that made us come upstairs?"

"Well, see, here's the tricky part," Malfoy answered. "He hasn't just been coming into genital contact with us, but we've been subject to some pretty nasty treatment courtesy of his fists and jealousy problem."

Ron growled at Malfoy and seemed to barely resist the urge to lunge at him. Harry couldn't help but inwardly salute Malfoy's braveness.

Hermione cleared her throat, her face a bright shade of red. "The thing you've got to realize, guys, is that we're trapped here. Anybody, trapped somewhere, with anyone, is going to resort to things that... Wouldn't normally happen. So when we go back to school... Can everyone... Can we forget this all happened?"

She seemed to be pleading with them.

Harry and Malfoy nodded, and after a pause Ron let out a grunt of agreement.

Hermione lifted her knees to her chest and seemed to cradle herself for a moment.

"Come down here, you lot!" came Mrs. Weasley's roaring voice. "They've found us, we've got to go to Grimmuald Place, NOW!!"


End file.
